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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177761">Power Play</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/starprise_entership/pseuds/triggerhappyhope'>triggerhappyhope (starprise_entership)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Danganronpa: Ultimate Order [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Different Mastermind (Dangan Ronpa), Anal Fingering, Blowjobs, Explicit Sexual Content, Homicidal Thoughts, M/M, Mastermind Ishimaru Kiyotaka, Mastermind Owada Mondo, Please read with caution, Second person POV, Spanking, assassination attempt, character evolution, d/s relationship? kind of?, dom/top ishimaru kiyotaka, gee wow that makes me sound like a horny bastard, mondo oowada pov, power bottom mondo oowada, references other fics in series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-24</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:28:26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>6,056</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27177761</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/starprise_entership/pseuds/triggerhappyhope</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>You <i>know</i> your cozy little arrangement can only end with you killing him.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Ishimaru Kiyotaka/Oowada Mondo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Danganronpa: Ultimate Order [6]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1837957</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>72</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Your muddy, bloody clothes are chucked aside. You kneel at the feet of your new master, naked and shivering.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The lighter clicks. “Oowada, this is the point of no return.” The commander’s voice is clipped, monotonous. “Any last words? Thoughts?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You clench your jaw. What’s left of your crumbling teeth clash and it hurts like a bitch. You spit a mouthful of blood onto the carpet. “Fuck,” you groan. “Let’s get this done and over with.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The searing pain is just as expected as Ishimaru drives the heated seal into the centre of your back. You howl. So many times you have burnt yourself, but you have yet to get used to the deep sting that penetrates your skin and burrows deeper. One second passes. And then another. By the time you count </span>
  <em>
    <span>three</span>
  </em>
  <span> you think that Ishimaru is doing this on purpose, to hurt you, to make you suffer. And then he pulls the seal away. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You swear you hear a faint sizzle as he removes the heated metal from your skin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So.” You drawl, still blinded by the pain, but you crane your neck to look at him. The grim frown never leaves his face. “So I’m </span>
  <em>
    <span>yours</span>
  </em>
  <span> now, ain’t that right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That is what we agreed to, yes.” Ishimaru says, then goes quiet.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You just </span>
  <em>
    <span>know </span>
  </em>
  <span>you’re gonna end up lopping his head off. You did it to Daiya, you could do it to Ishimaru. All it takes is your knife, and brute force. It’s a surreal experience, because cutting through the sinew and muscle and bone takes enough time that you’re forced to reflect on what you’ve done. Thankfully Daiya was dead by then; it probably would’ve been harder if he were wriggling around like a fish out of water. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You think about grabbing Ishimaru’s disembodied head by the hair. His eyes will be open - frozen in terror. His lips formed around the last choked gasp that left him. The spot between his brows creased, etched deep into the skin, as permanent as every etch and groove in a marble statue…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your loyalty is not all you offered me, Oowada. Were you hoping to offer up something else?” Ishimaru clicks his tongue, and your thoughts dispel for now. “Your body, perhaps?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cheekily, you raise an eyebrow, provoking him to take action. “So, you’re seriously takin’ me up on that offer? Yer gonna actually </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A sly smile plays on his lips. “That proposition holds enough interest for me to sincerely consider it. And you seem quite eager yourself.” He uncrosses his legs, just enough for him to drag the toe of his boot across the small of your back. Then he reorients himself, and firmly plants his foot there, claiming his territory. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“On your hands and knees, Oowada. This will be much more enjoyable if we both cooperate.”</span>
</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Supreme Commander makes you his bitch.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He makes you follow him around, trailing closely on his heels like the dog you are. You accompany him to every meeting, every meal, every </span>
  <em>
    <span>bathroom break. </span>
  </em>
  <span>When he barks an order, you are expected to follow. And you comply for now, as you observe each and every one of his moves with a watchful eye.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer…</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kiyotaka Ishimaru is </span>
  <em>
    <span>still </span>
  </em>
  <span>your enemy. He is the one man who stands between you and complete power. When the time is right, when he least expects it, you will forcefully tear him apart. You will rip him open with your hands and teeth; for you are the blood-thirsty monster who chases power, and power alone.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His boots clack against polished tile as he paces down the hallway in military step. You linger behind him, hands stuffed in your pockets. Your gaze falls on the back of his head, and you think about wrestling the pistol at his belt away from him, cramming the barrel into his mouth and pulling the trigger.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A quick death, but a messy one. It will be quite the explosion. His brains will paint the corridor walls bright pink. Sludge follows the natural course of gravity, leaving streaks from the points where they land. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ishimaru’s face will be unrecognisable. The face of your generation, blown apart with gunpowder and a tiny little metal pellet. You will grind the heel of your foot into what’s left of his skull, and leave him in a pile of his own mush to rot.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t get distracted, Oowada.” The man in question clicks his tongue. “What’s on your mind, now?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“As if I’ll ever tell you,” you spit, voice laced with venom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m curious.” He stops in his tracks, and turns to face you. He tilts his head, eyebrows scrunched quizzically. “I’ll wager - metaphorically, I would </span>
  <em>
    <span>never </span>
  </em>
  <span>bet real money on anything - that you’re thinking about </span>
  <em>
    <span>murdering </span>
  </em>
  <span>me, am I right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You give him your fiercest stare. Making the most of the height difference between you and him, you glare down at Ishimaru and bare your teeth, growling. You do this to remind him that you are the predator, and he the prey. You will end him. You could, right now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he is faster than you, and slams you into the wall before you have a chance to react. Fast as lighting, he takes your dagger from your belt, and braces the sharp edge against your jugular.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your heart beats in your ears. You want to throw him off, but </span>
  <em>
    <span>damn</span>
  </em>
  <span> is he strong. His crimson gaze burns a hole right through the spot between your eyes, and you are trapped. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do </span>
  <em>
    <span>not </span>
  </em>
  <span>ruin things for us, Oowada. I thought we agreed to work together, did we not?” His wrist trembles. One false move, and you will be gone. “I will expect nothing less than your full cooperation, Oowada. Am I </span>
  <em>
    <span>clear</span>
  </em>
  <span>!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You gulp. Knowing that refusing now means certain death for you, you know that there is only one correct choice. “Yes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sir</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” you groan, the honorific heavy with sarcasm. With an annoyed huff he lets you go. You rub at the skin where the dagger has left a shallow imprint. He has spared you this time, but this relationship could only be nothing more than a ticking time bomb. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>One day he will kill you, or you will kill him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s only a matter of time before it happens.</span>
</p><hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>Famously, the basement is where all the secrets are kept.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s our </span>
  <em>
    <span>multipurpose recreation chamber</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he declares. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Bullshit. </span>
  </em>
  <span>The two of you go down there for one reason and one reason only - and that’s to </span>
  <em>
    <span>fuck </span>
  </em>
  <span>the stress out of each other. You thought you’d made an excellent decision when you managed to convince Ishimaru to order all that kinky furniture that he would probably never rationally think about getting. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And you’re absolutely right, ‘cuz even if you don’t trust the guy, he gives one hell of a performance.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>As of right now, you’re immobilised, strapped down to a bench and spread open for his pleasure. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ishimaru seems to be taking his time selecting his choice of ‘apparatus’, as he puts it, for the night. With arms crossed behind his back, he quietly paces around the room, inspecting each rack meticulously in the way he inspects his men in a parade lineup. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His boots stop at the last rack down the row. The one where the whips are stored, never touched since their arrival.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ishimaru is a careful man. He errs on the side of caution, never doing something unless he’s absolutely sure of it. He could handle the smaller items; the paddles, the riding crops, the clamps - but perhaps it’s his inexperience with such a weapon that deters him from picking it up and going to town on your back and shoulders. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He simply won’t do it unless he’s confident enough to micromanage every single ounce of pain and pleasure he grants you.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But you kinda want him to use the whip, though. Firstly ‘cuz pain gets you off and you know it’ll feel pretty damn good, and second of all? You realise that the room is soundproof and if something were to happen here, nobody would ever know. You think about breaking free from your restraints. It </span>
  <em>
    <span>could </span>
  </em>
  <span>happen. Ishimaru’s all about safety. He never straps you in too tight. You know you ain’t likely to freak out at something he brings to the table and demand to be let out, but he still considers it. Just in case.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And when you break free from your restraints, you will charge at Ishimaru, snatch the whip from him, and tackle him onto the floor. Then you will hold the stiff leather hard against his throat, and wait. He will struggle; he will fight. But you will do anything in your power to hold on - for there is no force on earth or in hell that can stop you from gaining your rightful place at the top of the world.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You imagine staring into his eyes as life bleeds away from them. Such piercing, crimson red eyes - when the light in them goes out, will you gloat? Will you cheer? </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>What will you do with his body afterwards?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>While you zone out, deep in thought, Ishimaru has readied his item of choice for the evening. A simple, light, wooden paddle. He’s playing it safe tonight. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turns it over in his hands, tapping the edge against his palm. His leather gloves creak when he clenches his fingers just so, and you giddily anticipate what is to come.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I will strike you,” declares Ishimaru, in his usual stern tone. He reaches out to knead at your ass, his gloves smooth against your skin. “You will count for me, either until we reach twelve, or until you use your safeword. Am I clear?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your dick twitches a little at the thought. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Hell yeah</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” you growl, looking over your shoulder at him. Ishimaru’s face scrunches up into a frown, and he slaps you. Hard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuckin’ hell…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Watch your language, Oowada.” His fingers skim the spot where he had just hit. Your skin is on fire now, and you can’t wait to get started. “Answer me again, properly this time.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You chuckle, the sound of it rumbling deep in your throat. “Yes, </span>
  <em>
    <span>sir</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ishimaru’s brows furrow, and he’s got that gaze of concentration he reserves for only his work. </span>
  <em>
    <span>You </span>
  </em>
  <span>are his task, and he means business. So your breath hitches as he draws his arm back, and brings the paddle down soundly against your flesh. </span>
  <em>
    <span>One</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Your spine tingles. </span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Two.</span>
  </em>
  <span> He takes a brief break to give your ass a light pat. You squirm, pushing back into his touch. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Patience, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Mondo!</span>
  </em>
  <span>” He says your name with such force it feels like a slap to the face. “We’ve just barely gotten started.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You try not to lose count as your senses are assaulted, your nerves tingling with just the right amount of sensation. He makes you walk that thin line between pain and pleasure, carefully adjusting the strength of his hits so that it doesn’t teeter over into </span>
  <em>
    <span>just</span>
  </em>
  <span> pain. You groan, you shout, you </span>
  <em>
    <span>howl </span>
  </em>
  <span>for him, because he’s the only person who makes you feel this way and you want to make sure he knows it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time you have been hit a dozen times, your legs are trembling and the bench beneath you is slick with your own fluids. You crane your neck just enough to see Ishimaru’s face as he reaches under you and dips a gloved finger in the puddle. It’s subtle, but he wrinkles his nose. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He wipes it off on your skin, then walks around to your front. There’s a hand in your hair and for a moment you think he’s going to fuck your mouth. But he doesn’t. Not yet. His hold on your hair is gentle, easing off on the aggressiveness for now. Instead he’s patting your head gently and calling you a good boy. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Good boy. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Like the dog you are. You think about spitting on him to show that you’re not going to play nice all the time. You’ll fight him for his power to the bitter end, and that’s how it’ll be. Either way, one of you is going to end up a bloodied corpse.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He cups your jaw in his hand, the glint in his eyes mocking you. “Shall I finger you, Mon-chan?” The nickname rolls off his tongue, as sweet as honey; but you can feel the poison lurking behind it. He is in control. He is putting you in your place. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And you wonder if you’re actually starting to enjoy it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ishimaru doesn’t even touch you with his bare hands. Just plunges two gloved fingers in, slicked up with lube. You feel the slight burn as he stretches you, and then feels around inside. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This place,” He begins, breathing hard, “do you want to know what happened down here, Mon-chan?” You can’t see him, but you know he has his eyebrows raised. “This was where my grandfather kept his secrets.” His fingers press hard into your prostate, and you rock forward. “Dirty, </span>
  <em>
    <span>dirty </span>
  </em>
  <span>secrets. He associated with the wrong people, and he paid dearly for it. Criminal scum.” He punctuates this with a harsh thrust. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Criminal scum </span>
  </em>
  <span>like you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yer callin’ me </span>
  <em>
    <span>criminal scum</span>
  </em>
  <span>, and yet you’re fuckin’ me in the ass right now.” You chuckle, a jab back at him. “How do ya feel about that, huh?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>With a grunt, he slides his hand free, leaving you on the edge with nothing to push you over. Your body screams, aches, for release, and yet he will give you none, not until he is satisfied. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You growl. “Bastard,” You swear through clenched teeth. He takes this as his cue to step back a little, watching you amusingly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Make no mistake, Oowada.” And you’re back on a last name basis. “I don’t think of myself as the most </span>
  <em>
    <span>saintly </span>
  </em>
  <span>person either. I’ve taken lives.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then what’s the difference between me and you, huh?” Your hair is damp with sweat and it uncomfortably sticks to the back of your neck. You shake your head a little to get it loose. “We’re both monsters, then.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ishimaru shakes his head, and then starts to approach you again. “But at least one of us cares about how we want the world to turn out.” His gaze burns as you lock eyes with him. “And the other just wants to see the world burn.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He re-enters you again, and repeats the cycle of bringing you to the brink of orgasm, stopping, and then starting again. You don’t know how long it has been, but it feels like literal hours when you finally come under his command. You are now limp and boneless when he undoes your restraints, offering you his praise as he uncuffs you. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You slump onto the floor, tired and sticky, but you have enough energy in you to satisfy one last craving. You grapple around until you find the ankle of Ishimaru’s boot, and use your grip on his leg to pull yourself to a kneeling position. You lick your lips, sticky with drool. “I wanna suck you off. Please.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s a moment where what seems like skepticism flashes in his eyes, but then he uncrosses his arms from in front of his chest. “Are you sure? Would you rather not rest?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>You wink. “Another five minutes won’t kill me.” With that answer, he starts to undo his belt, the gentle click of the buckle pleasing to the ear. But once his belt is undone you move so fast you’re almost throwing yourself at him, pulling his slacks and briefs down to his knees as you back him against the nearest hard surface. In one swift movement you bury him to the hilt, feeling him swell in the back of your throat until you’re left with the throbbing, heavy weight on your tongue you’re all so familiar with. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Your quickness takes him by surprise. He gasps, muffled by his leather glove. That’s great and all, but you really want to see him just </span>
  <em>
    <span>lose his composure completely</span>
  </em>
  <span>. Even in moments like this he’s still trying to cling onto that last shred of dignity, but you just want to see what happens when that stoic, stern image he’s created for himself shatters completely. Kiyotaka Ishiimaru is the epitome of discipline and order, the embodiment of determination and willpower. You want to push him to his limits, to see what it will take for him to take that leap off the edge, and join you in eternal chaos. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The tip of your nose brushes the muscular folds of his lower abdomen. You can hear him - he is sobbing, he is </span>
  <em>
    <span>wailing</span>
  </em>
  <span>, in the usual way that he does when overwhelmed. But it’s not enough for you; you want to see him lose all inhibition. So you reach around and cup his ass in your hands, drawing him in even closer. And then, finally, there’s the slightest twitch of his hips. If you can let him give in now, you have won. So you gently pull him back a little, giving him the space and the encouragement he needs. With a few sloppy thrusts bruising the back of your throat he finishes with a long, drawn out sigh, and you swallow it all up. When you pull back, you witness the masterpiece you have created, and you grin.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ishimaru’s face is cherry red. His jet black hair is damp with sweat, and it sticks to his forehead in sections. His breath comes out in short, quick bursts, and there’s this haze in his eyes as he looks down at you for a moment, still coming back to his senses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually he straightens up and tucks himself back in his slacks. Wiping the sweat off his brow with the back of his gloved hand, his eyes scan your body, surveying the damage he’s done.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t get up yet.” His usually authoritative voice has an uncharacteristic waver to it now. “I’ll get you some water and a towel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Admittedly, he’s more fun to play with than you initially thought. Perhaps you’ll keep him alive for a little while longer after all.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>uni kicked my ass. but i'm back.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Too much power puts a target on one’s back, as you find out.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The white walls of the hallway are smeared pink with blood, and at the end of that trail is the Supreme Commander, hobbling along with a hand pressed to the wound in his stomach. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“No, thank you for asking, your assistance is not necessary,” you hear him groan to a passing staff member. He briefly brings his hand away from the wall to shoo his subordinate off, and he stumbles. You hold your breath. If he pitches just another few inches forwards he will fall over his own feet, and will likely not be able to get up.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Here is the opportunity you have been waiting for since you joined his ranks. You can end him, right now.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>So why are you passively standing by, watching him from the doorway? </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>You could push him over. It will be easy - just the lightest of touches and he will keel over. He might attempt to claw his way to the infirmary for a while longer, he’s not gonna make it at that rate. The blood drips from his stab wound like sand falling in an hourglass. If he doesn’t find the strength to overturn it before it runs out, his life will be over. You could speed that process up by, oh, just walking up to him and jabbing a finger into the small of his back. It could look like an accident, and nobody would ever blame you for it. And when you take over you’ll give him a nice state funeral. One with the cannons and the marching band. His body, embalmed in wax, will lie in state in front of the Presidential Palace. He will be paler than he’d ever been, but with his death he will finally look at peace when the embalmer rubs the creases out of his forehead.  </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Ishimaru probably has a will somewhere detailing his last wishes. It’s the least you can do for him anyway. It was fun while it lasted, but you haven’t forgotten why you’re here.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Or have you?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Your hands are shaking, your teeth chattering like you’ve been left out in the cold. There’s something in your gut, something stirring, that tells you that something is very wrong. And you listen to it, because when have your instincts ever betrayed you? And yet you don’t know what’s stopping you from approaching him and dealing that final blow. This shouldn’t be happening - you are a seasoned killer, the Mad Dog who tears his enemies to pieces - and you have said to yourself a million times that Ishimaru is your </span>
  <em>
    <span>enemy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, not your </span>
  <em>
    <span>friend </span>
  </em>
  <span>or your </span>
  <em>
    <span>partner</span>
  </em>
  <span>. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He must go. And you must kill him. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Your steps are light as you skulk your way into the corridor behind him. He gets closer with every stride. He is four steps ahead of you. And now three. Two.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>One.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Planning something, Oowada?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>You freeze. He’s far more perceptive than you noticed. With a great amount of effort he looks over his shoulder, gaze shifting in and out of focus. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I do not require your assistance.” Ishimaru says, and then coughs. “In fact I presume you are here to finish the job that someone else failed, am I right?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It disappoints you a little that he will never see you as anything more than a killer. Perhaps it’s spite, perhaps it’s something else; you disobey his orders and sweep him off his feet before he has a chance to fight back. Once he returns to his senses he is squirming, writhing in your arms, trying to get away.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“PUT ME DOWN!” His voice is raw as he shouts. “THIS IS AN ORDER, OOWADA-”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up.” You retort. “Do ya really wanna die that badly?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He clams up. The fact that he doesn’t reply sends a shiver down your spine, making your blood run cold. You have found his weakness, and prodded at it. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Kiyotaka Ishimaru wants to die. </span>
  </em>
  <span>But why? He had a bright future. He could go anywhere, do anything he damn well wanted; as long as he put his mind to it. He was the golden boy of Hopes’ Peak - where the hell did it all go so wrong? </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>You can’t let him die yet. You want answers.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Have someone clean up the mess I left in the office, Oowada,” he croaks, as you leave him in the hands of Mikan Tsumiki. When you leave, your senses are on high alert as you sweep the corridors for any sign of the assailant who had made an attempt on Ishimaru’s life. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>You push open the heavy wooden doors to his office, and right there, on the floor, is the poor fucker who stabbed Ishimaru; a splotch of pink around the bullet wound in his chest, blooming like a rose.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>With a huff, you pluck the knife from his hand.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The finance minister has been unceremoniously dismissed. </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>
    <span></span>
  </span>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s just something about Mikan Tsumiki that gives you the heebie-jeebies.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Ishimaru did a fine job at convincing most of the upperclassmen that there was something seriously wrong with the world and they were going to be the ones to help him change it, but it always felt like Tsumiki had taken it a step too far. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>She latched onto Ishimaru’s ideology and gleefully accepted her place as Ishimaru’s official executioner. He sends dissidents to her, and she takes care of them for him. You figure it’s the same way he sends you and your men out to mow down resistance groups. He gives the order, and you maul whoever he chooses. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>But there’s something off about her, and you think the handful of unexplained deaths occurring around Ishimaru’s residence might have something to do with it.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Hanamura, the chef, requests your presence in the kitchen one morning. “My assistant’s </span>
  <em>
    <span>dead</span>
  </em>
  <span>,” he whimpers, knees shaking and face pale. “And there’s no way in hell am I gonna be next!”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>You move the fresh corpse to the infirmary where Tsumiki and her medical team can take a better look at it. You’re standing off to the side as the doctors and nurses throw around medical jargon you don’t understand. There’s blood and flesh and organs on the medical table as the autopsy gets underway. You’ve never really properly seen organs when they’re taken out of a person, you know? Sure, you’ve impaled people on your pickaxe countless times, but you never stop to witness the aftermath. Perhaps you’ve seen guts once, maybe a few times, but now all the organs of this once-living, once-breathing person are on display as plainly as meat at the butcher’s. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It fascinates you, but some part deep inside of you is wrinkling his nose. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Fuck. </span>
  </em>
  <span>You’re Mondo Oowada. A killer. What kind of mass murderer gets squeamish at the sight of blood?</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>A while later, Tsumiki sidles over to your side and meekly gives her explanation. “W-We couldn’t find a cause of death, sir.” she squeaks, “I-It seems...that she just had a sudden heart attack...a-and died on the spot! I-It’s unnatural, to say the l-least…”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bullshit. That explanation’s bullshit and you know it. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Your fist pounds the wall behind you and she jumps. “We’ve had a few unnatural deaths this week. They shouldn’t be happenin’ and you know it.” You growl. “Tell me the fucking truth, or I’m gonna rip you apart.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Eeeeeeek! </span>
  </em>
  <span>Yes, sir, whatever it is, it’s my fault, please, hit me, draw on me, you can do </span>
  <em>
    <span>anything </span>
  </em>
  <span>to me!” Jesus, she’s pleading again. You roll your eyes. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I k-know you don’t understand...but p-please tell Ishimaru...about the results of the autopsy...he’d understand…”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Understand </span>
  <em>
    <span>what</span>
  </em>
  <span>.” You spit, and cross your arms. “Make it so that </span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> fucking understand.” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>A shadow seems to pass over her face as her shyness disappears. All that is left in her eyes is the stony gaze of a person who is dead serious about what she’s about to say next. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s the only one who understands me,” says Tsumiki, rage boiling beneath her words. “He’s the only person in this world, who never hated me. And for that...he’s my beloved, Ishimaru…”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>You swallow down the disgust that bubbles up in your throat. You’re not sure where Ishimaru’s heart is right now, but if it has to be anywhere, you will claim it for yourself. Metaphorically or literally. But probably more in a literal sense. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Tsumiki continues. “When someone does bad things to you...it’s only natural to want to do bad things back to them, right? An eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth. That’s human nature, and my </span>
  <em>
    <span>beloved</span>
  </em>
  <span> knows it.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You think a guy like Ishimaru would care about </span>
  <em>
    <span>revenge?” </span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>There’s a moment where she giggles lightly, then she leans forward into your personal space. “But he’s just making sure that justice is served, right? And isn’t ‘justice’ just a more ‘civilised’ form of retribution, wrapped up all nicely in that neat little legal system of his?” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Her clipped nails trace a line against your throat, and you are trying not to snort because she couldn’t do anything to you even if she tried. “Murderers, traitors and thieves. They all get their dues eventually. For every thing they rob another person of, they too will have something taken from them. It’s revenge, plain and simple. They are punished for their actions, because society hates them, and by extension, the leaders who crafted our legal system hate them too. My </span>
  <em>
    <span>beloved</span>
  </em>
  <span> has been wronged many times. And so he’s taken it upon himself to change things. He is ever so strict with the hold he has over the nation...but he’s been so very kind to me...I don’t deserve this! I don’t deserve his care and concern, and yet I love him so...so much!”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>You wish you could roll your eyes so hard they roll out of your fucking skull. With a cough, you clear your throat. Your hands are firmly on her shoulders, pushing her away. “Cut out that </span>
  <em>
    <span>beloved </span>
  </em>
  <span>bullcrap, Tsumiki. We both know his heart ain’t with anyone right now.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Tsumiki sniffles, going back into her shrinking violet mode. “W-Why do you have to be so mean? I’m just trying to explain things to you, and all y-you do is just…-!”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Aw, shut the fuck up,” you retort, throwing her a glance as you turn to leave. “You don’t even spend that much time with the guy. How the hell do you know what he’s thinkin’?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Her lower lip wobbles and her hands are clasped. Clearly it’s some act to get you to have some pity for her. Not happenin’ today. “Y-Yeah, maybe you’re right. Maybe we don’t think the same. But I could still l-love him from afar…”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Geez.” Your spine tingles with discomfort. You figure you’ll let Ishimaru in on your hunch, because you trust your instincts and your instincts tend to be right…</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>...at least most of the time.  </span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>You can’t remember the last time you went a day without being covered in dirt and blood. The grime becomes your second skin, and you bask in it. Your blood sings in your veins with the thrill of the hunt, giving you that adrenaline high even though the massacre’s over. Today’s outing has been a successful one, but you’ve got a few small injuries to patch up. So you swing by the infirmary to avoid tracking blood all over Ishimaru’s clean carpets.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>The room is dark and seemingly occupied as you saunter in. “Tsumiki!” You bark, expecting her to rush to your aid as she always does. But there is no Tsumiki this time, only the faint sound of boots sternly pacing across the tiled floor. Your reflexes are back in high alert now. With a slam of your left palm against the light switch, you unveil the man standing in the darkness. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I could have killed ya, you know.” Your palm uncurls from around the handle of your dagger, and you huff. “It’s never wise to give me surprises.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Ishimaru nods, quite understandably. “It’s a good thing, then, that you have fast reflexes, am I right? After all, those reflexes are the reason why you’re still alive right now, despite the harsh conditions of the locations I send you and your men out to scout.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“No shit, when you drive a bike you need reflexes or you’ll just be roadkill, Captain Obvious.” Your nose is dripping, and you bring a hand up to flick away the blood that gathers on your upper lip. “So where the fuck’s Tsumiki, then?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“She is no longer part of the medical team at my residence.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“But there’s no need to worry. We still have a medical team here. If you’re wondering where she is right now, she’s been transferred to the military hospital and is under close watch.” says Ishimaru. He steps right up to you until you’re standing toe to toe with him. You think about telling him to piss off, but then he is staring intently at your face and that throws you off for a bit. You think you know what to expect from Ishimaru, but now you’re just drawing a blank.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You’re bleeding.” His fingers press along your jawline, prompting you to turn your head to show him the full extent of your injuries. He says this with a hint of graveness, as if you’re not just afflicted by a few cuts here and there but instead bleeding </span>
  <em>
    <span>out</span>
  </em>
  <span> to death from a huge wound in the abdomen. “Let me help you. I have some knowledge in first aid.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>It isn’t as much of an offer as it is an order, because somehow he gets you on one of the medical beds without much trouble at all. Your spine tingles as he swaps out his usual leather gloves for a pair of latex gloves. He stretches them, and the resounding </span>
  <em>
    <span>thwack</span>
  </em>
  <span> against bare skin makes you wonder if you might be developing a thing for latex. “So what’s the diagnosis, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Doctor</span>
  </em>
  <span>?” You flash him a cocky smile. Ishimaru picks up on the subtext behind your words a lot faster than he usually goes.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He plays along with this, that sly grin once again playing on his lips. “Well, Mr Oowada, I’m currently unsure, but if you think I’m going to be running my hands all over your body to determine the cause of your discomfort, you’ll be sorely mistaken. My job here is only to attend to minor cuts and bruises.“</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Then let’s get started on it, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Doc.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Ishimaru’s hands are </span>
  <em>
    <span>impossibly </span>
  </em>
  <span>steady when he picks up the alcohol-soaked cotton ball with the tweezers. They are the same way when he engages in calligraphy work; as precise as an acupuncture needle, as calm as the surface of a still pond. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Yer real fuckin’ good at this.” You said, as you watched him lay down stroke after stroke. “Wonder why Hopes’ Peak never recruited you as the Super High School Level Calligrapher.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>His brows furrowed, and the corner of his mouth turned downwards, sneering. “My skill in calligraphy does not originate from talent. It would go against the principles of Hopes’ Peak Academy to bestow upon me such a title.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Let’s start with the scratch on your forehead.” Ishimaru meticulously dabs at the wound, and you wince only just a little. “How did you get this one?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Chased a guy through the bushes.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Did you get him?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>You tell him the truth, because that’s what he wants to hear anyway. “Hell yeah I did. He didn’t stand a chance.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>His head tilts slightly. “That’s good. As I would have expected, for a man of your capability.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Is he complimenting you now? This guy really knows how to throw you for a fuckin’ loop. </span>
  </em>
  <span>“It was nothing.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>Ishimaru clicks his tongue, in the way you imagine he would talk down to an insolent child. “Mondo, it’s important to be humble.” With a sigh, he moves to the next wound on your face. “But I suppose, values like humility can be learned, given enough time. I would like you to try, Mondo. Could you do that for me?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Huh? Sure.” You try to play it cool, but your mind begs to differ.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You have a bruise here,” he notes, prodding at your cheek. “How did you get this?”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Some bastard tried to punch me. But I got ‘im real good afterwards.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“You could stand to be more careful next time.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He asks you that question every time he approaches a new injury. He’s got a better bedside manner than Tsumiki, and for the first time ever you’re glad it isn’t that bitch who’s treating you right now. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>You’re still trying to figure out what makes this guy tick. What’s his deal with you, anyway? Sometimes he looks at you like you’re scum, other times like this it seems like for a second, he cares. You have never seen anyone as intense as him, as his red eyes lock onto each task like it’s the only thing that matters. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He’s a weird fella. You don’t understand him, but then again maybe you weren’t meant to. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why’d you send Tsumiki away?” The question falls from your lips. Ishimaru’s fingers, currently in the process of securing a bandage, stop their work. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>He considers the question for a moment. “As illogical as it may sound, my decision to dismiss her from her post here...was partly thanks to your judgement.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I know you don’t trust me, Oowada. But sometimes, I find myself wishing I could trust you.”</span>
</p><hr/><p>
  <span>You are by his side almost all hours of the day. Now, Ishimaru has the </span>
  <em>
    <span>nerve </span>
  </em>
  <span>to invite you into his bed.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why?” You’d asked, a million thoughts bubbling to the top.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Because I trust that you won’t kill me in my sleep,” he says.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>And now he is right there. Sleeping ever so soundly with his back turned to you. It could be so easy to steal his life away in the night. He wouldn’t even know a thing. </span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>You wish you could hate him, but you can’t.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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